


The bet

by jakrster



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Back to Hogwarts, F/M, Fred Weasley is not dead, Fremione - Freeform, Friends to Lovers, Head Girl Hermione Granger, Hermione Granger and Amy Santiago are the same person, Idiots in Love, Inspired by Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV), Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:01:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24508831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jakrster/pseuds/jakrster
Summary: Seventh year.The war is over and many students return to Hogwarts to complete their education, including the Weasley twins.Fred's gonna make a bet with Hermione, his favorite lab rat.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Fred Weasley
Comments: 6
Kudos: 87





	The bet

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I wrote this OS, last fall, for a contest on Wattpad (in French). I decided to try to translate it... I'm sorry for the grammar mistakes, English is not my native language (I put my faith in google translate). 
> 
> I wish you as much pleasure in reading it as I had in writing it.

"I told you it was three, THREE, unicorn hairs that you should have put in the potion. Why, Fred, why did you put a Chinese Fireball Claw in there instead?"

"Because that's what I thought you were telling me to do! »

"How are the words 'HAIR U-NI-CORN' and 'CLAW' look similar? Oh, please enlighten me, I think my grammar is deficient! »

"You're done shouting, yes?" exclaimed the ginger, annoyed. " _Thank you_."

Fred rolled his eyes, sighing down the stairs, not giving a glance to Hermione who followed him, angrily. Ever since their cauldron had exploded – luckily the effects of the potion had been quickly neutralized by Professor Slughorn – the Head girl had been emphasizing the twin's foolishness.

Most of the teachers at Hogwarts were struggling with the management of their seventh grade classes, which had almost doubled in size following the end of the war, due to the return of several of them. Some teachers, including Horace Slughorn, had the added challenge of teaching a class of four Weasleys. The poor man was constantly creating new pairs, a vain attempt to create for order in his classroom.

He had started his class this morning by announcing the new class plan - a real headache that had been getting harder and harder over the past few weeks. So Fred had found himself with an irritated Hermione, who feared that the young man might not take it seriously (a justified concern, all the same).

"Because of you, I missed my potion! I told you it was important! I really couldn't have been clearer. And now I'm going to end up with a D." You had to be deaf not to hear that this simple idea horrified her. "Have you thought about my grade point average? By Godric, do you think Professor Slughorn would agree if I asked him for extra work to fix the monstrosity you've caused that's about to drastically lower my average? Do you think this will go on my record when I send my application to the Ministry for the internship I want to do next summer?"

Yes and no.

Yes, it was quite likely that Professor Slughorn would accept additional work – if he hadn't already summarily evaluated the potion so that it had only an A.

No, she wouldn't fail her internship at the magical Department of Justice - Fred remembered very well that she had talked about it at length in September, when she was explaining why NEWT were important to Harry and Ron. Hermione Granger had a good enough reputation that she didn't need supporting school marks to get in where she wanted to be.

Fred was silent, however. It was a lot of information he wasn't about to say out loud. When he turned around, he saw her stopped, her hand clutching the banister of the stairs, probably imagining a thousand and one scenarios. He could hear her overheated brain from where he was standing.

The young man went down a few steps down the stairs to get closer to her.

"Hermione, this is not a failed potion that's gonna make your future miserable. Nobody dies from failure, especially you. You could make this potion with your eyes closed. I know it. Slughorn knows it. And, probably everyone knows it. Stop worrying about it."

All the students who passed by were giving them inquisitive glances, but none of them seemed to be affected. It wasn't their first fight.

"You can't understand." She hammered condescendingly, not caring about the kind gesture he had just made to try to reassure her. No, Hermione Granger had the ability to hear only what she wanted to hear. "You are the King of the Dreadful, the Poor and the Trolls."

She was annoying him. She really was.

"Do you know… _no_. Hold on. Did you just call me a troll's king when I'm trying to reassure you? You're un-believ-able. Merlin, you are exasperating!"

He turned away from her and continued his ascent to the ground floor, while she sighed angrily.

Fred knew it was, primarily, the performance anxiety of the young woman speaking. However, Hermione's general annoyance no longer amused him. Instead, he felt insulted.

However, Fred and Hermione had grown very close in recent months. The young woman had watched over him - as had members of the Weasley family - following his injuries during the Battle of Hogwarts. She then spent the summer at the Terrier and kept him company on several occasions while he was bedridden. Soon, a complicity had developed between them, and they had got to know each other outside of the eternal considerations they had always had: her little brother's overly serious best friend and one of the Weasley family's overly joking twins.

As the summer progressed, Fred began to seriously appreciate the young woman. He was constantly seeking her attention. When she was reading, he always managed to disturb her. He liked to prick her and have her respond in a scathing manner - just as much as he liked her to laugh at his jokes. They were constantly arguing: about a yes or a no, about trivial matters, about a joke being misinterpreted, about everything.

Their behaviour irritated their friends.

Ron had even asked her if she could return to her normal state and stop worrying about whether or not Fred was sincere when he compared Viktor Krum to a gorilla. Ridiculous and pathetic, he had hammered. It didn't take much for his best friend to be the focus of his slander.

George, on the other hand, had taken it upon himself to point out to his brother that they looked like two five-year-olds trying to get each other's attention. His twin had the audacity to mention that this was very adorable in children, but only deplorable in adults. Fred, crumpled in his pride, did not reply.

It was nobody's business but his own if he messed with Hermione for no good reason.

Fred slows down so she can catch up with him. The young woman walked next to him, her mouth still pinched, still furious. He gave her a mocking look and wrapped his arm around her slender waist to bring her closer to him.

"Herminione... " he said, in a low voice.

Usually, when he twisted his gaze exactly in his own in this way and he said precisely that nickname in that tone, the anger of the young woman softened. Always.

However, he couldn't savor his little success this time, because she pushed his arm back dryly.

"It's not because you don't care whether you have your NEWT or not that it's the same for everyone! »

"You're, like, really, _really_ , being a pain in the ass this morning, aren't you? »

The question was purely rhetorical.

Fred's jaw contracted in the face of the resentment that was overwhelming him. The twins hated to be seen to be prone to joking: they had a different intelligence and it didn't fit the way they were being taught. After all, you had to be pretty damn smart to come up with such wonderful inventions.

Hermione knew that. Hermione recognized it. Hermione, when she wasn't criticizing the way they used the early years as guinea pigs, sometimes used some of their inventions. However, out of pride, the young woman overtook him and entered the Great Hall, without apologizing or admitting her wrongdoing.

They joined their friends, who were sitting in their usual seats, each determined to ignore each other - although Fred sat in front of her. Hermione sniffed dismissively, which made him sigh. Then she dryly opened her bag and took a book from her fingertips. In any case, the conversation revolved mainly around the Quidditch season, and the young woman had nothing to add or comment on. She began her reading by distractedly chewing a piece of the spinach quiche that the brunette had served herself.

"So, Herminione, how do you deal with your first potion, which was a complete failure?"asked George, terribly amused by the situation.

She raised her head, pinched her mouth, and looked angrily at the other twin.

"So, very badly." he guessed, bursting out laughing.

"So badly, that she's spent her time insulting my intelligence." Fred added, rolling his eyes. "As if it's all my fault," he said.

"Which it is. It's still not my fault if you can't follow clear and concise directions." she argued, from the tip of her lips. "You're pathologically stupid, Fred Weasley."

"If you stopped getting lost in the trivial details and stopped for just ten seconds trying to deal with everything, maybe you could give them these clear and concise directions." he refuted with a black look.

Harry and Ron, sitting two seats away, burst out laughing at the situation that had become usual. Ginny grimaced and put one hand on her boyfriend's forearm, while making big eyes at him and his brother to keep them quiet.

"Can we change the subject? "said Ron, who obviously didn't understand his sister's warning at all. "It's not that the subject isn't interesting, but... Actually, it is! Completely!"

The Weasley's youngest daughter got up to bend over and hit him in the back of the head. Ron immediately complained about how rough Ginny could be.

"Just because I don't read a brick a day, like you do, doesn't make me a moron!" added Fred, who didn't take his brother's comment into consideration.

"Oh yeah?" Hermione wondered, exaggeratedly. "Maybe you should show it to the whole world, then! And stop messing up other people's potions in the process."

George, who was determined to take advantage of the situation, rubbed his hands together with a big smile.

"At Ron's constant request," his brother moaned approvingly. "Let's get this over with once and for all. And to do that, I suggest a little bet!"

.

.

Thus the bet was launched.

It was a simple one, and Hermione was certain to win. It would even be easy as a pie.

Whoever scored the two highest marks in their next assignments in the three subjects they had in common - potions, transfiguration and defense against the dark arts - would be the winner. The young woman had made a point of specifying that any outside help would be considered cheating and would automatically proclaim the other winner. Fred, for his part, had added that if there was a tie in the results, he would give his twin the task of finding a test to break the tie - to which Hermione had hammered that Ginny should check whether the test would favour Fred in any way.

The stakes were simple. Despite the fact that they had to debate for long minutes to agree.

If the brunette won, she would formally ban the sale of their products inside Hogwarts for a full year. At first, she didn't specify a length of time. Hermione had had to resign herself to specifying a year, after arguing with the twins.

If the ginger won, Hermione would have to agree to be his girlfriend for a full day. This point had been unclear: the young woman had spiked up and tried to understand Fred's interest, but she had not succeeded, despite her many - very many - questions. She had finally agreed, claiming that the chances of this prospect taking shape were slim.

May the best win.

**.**

**.**

George checked for the third time whether the correct dosage in the new sweet they wanted to incorporate into the Skiving Snackboxes was perfect. This one consisted, overall, in recreating the symptoms of the dragon pox. A real fury.

"Exactly four drops of dragon saliva." said the young man, holding an instrument, which looked like a baster in his left hand.

"Any particular dragon's saliva?" Fred asked, as he transcribed the new information onto a scroll.

"Common Welsh Green." said his brother. "We could test others. We'll see."

"It would be a great ideal if we want to get past the control of market standards."

The twins took advantage of their afternoon off to work on the sweet in their dormitory. They used these interludes to develop new products that they could incorporate into their business - when they had enough money to set up a new shop.

The 93 Diagon Alley had not survived the war. In April, a large part of the famous Witch Street had been destroyed when a dragon, a Ukrainian Ironbelly, appeared from the roof of Gringotts. Another had suffered Voldemort's rage a few hours later - when he realized that Helga Hufflepuff's cup had been removed from the safe of Bellatrix Lestranges.

Nothing from the twins' shop had been recovered after these two events.

The brothers had made the decision to return to Hogwarts, much to their mother's delight, to complete their studies. Under the guidance of Lee, who had a career in finance, they had put the rest of their money into investments to make it grow. Meanwhile, they were completing their seventh year.

George passed his hand over the whitish smoke of the cauldron.

"Are you sure about this, Gred?" Fred gave his brother an interrogatory look. The other twin sighed. "Hermione. The challenge. All of it."

"Oh." He had a little laugh. "Yes, I certainly did. Are you doubting my intelligence?"

"No. Except you'll understand that when it comes to our favorite lab rat, I have a slight doubt about your ability to make informed decisions."

"Frankly, you're exaggerating." George glanced at him equivocally. Fred shifted his defensive stance slightly, considering the exaggeration of his cognitive functions in the presence of Hermione Granger to be a thorny issue. "Anyway, you're the one who put the bet on the table."

"Yeah, but you might be able to let her win just for her pretty eyes." Her twin grumbled that he was exaggerating, again. "I ask you this randomly, but didn't you try to seduce her like a normal person? Well, you were pretty successful with Angelina... What's the big deal? Don't you remember how to do it? »

Fred played distractedly with the feather.

"It's not like that. " he contrasted, flatly.

George arched an eyebrow. He even waited patiently for long seconds, believing that the explanation would continue with a 'because'. He almost expected a progressive, descriptive and argumentative text on all the reasons why Hermione Granger was treated differently from the other girls his twin had dated - and there were many of them in the charts. However, Fred little leads him to understand all these vaporous explanations.

"She's different." he explained, briefly, under the insistent gaze of his brother.

George watched him, a little incredulous, before laughing and gently hitting him on the arm.

"If you say so, Romeo. In the meantime, you'd better do your duty to DADA."

**.**

**.**

Hermione Granger was anxious - it didn't take a graduate degree in psychology to identify this trait in her personality. It was obvious. Like a nose in the middle of your face. And this anxiety existed because of the high demands placed on herself (and others), because of her competitiveness and because of the pressure to meet unattainable standards.

It was, therefore, not surprising that the mere thought of this stupid bet caused her additional stress. The young woman had weighed herself down for long hours, while she was slogging through a spell assignment so that she could thoroughly review the potion assignment.

Surprisingly, Hermione had quickly realized that she wouldn't win the damn bet as easily as she had thought. If she had scored higher than Fred on their first Defense Against the dark arts assignment, the Head Girl had several good reasons to worry when they were handed the Potions and Transfiguration assignment.

The young lady had a rant. She had studied, analyzed, turned the question around, without finding a plausible answer. How had he done it?

Since her first year, Hermione Granger had been top of the class. It was a fact - just as the sun rises in the east and sets in the west. And although she was the only one who saw this reputation as positive, the brunette was losing it with this bet.

Her pride and competitiveness could hardly stand a double defeat. Very badly.

.

.

The muggle-born entered the transfiguration class with Fred behind her. Two weeks had passed since the bet had been issued and everyone knew that today they would get the result of the second assignment in this subject.

The young man pulled on the chair next to Hermione's, which made her wince. The brunette cleared her throat and took out her work tools, without worrying about Fred's jaded look as he sat down. She carefully placed her pen, inkwell and books on his desk - as if each object had a predetermined place.

Fred watched her do it, mocking. What could Merlin have found for her? She was obsessive, serious and picky. All things he wasn't. All things he didn't like. (Usually. Because, to tell the truth, these flaws in no way detracted from Fred's attraction to the lioness). And, yet. Still. Hermione Granger was getting his full attention.

She turned to him, frowning.

"Weasley, stop looking at me." she ordered, trying to build up an air of haughtiness.

"You can't stop me from admiring my soon-to-be girlfriend obsessively placing her books."

"Stop it. Stop it now." she squeaked, in a bad mood.

He served her a bright smile as her one and only answer.

The ginger moved his chair closer to his own and pushed his metamorphosis manual with the tip of his index finger so that it moved, exactly, three centimetres. Then, naturally, he put his arm around the young woman's waist. His long fingers stroked her hip bone on her left side, through her shirt, spontaneously. Hermione got goose bumps as her cheeks turned pink furiously. 

She did not make any movement to get out of the embrace of her arm.

"I love watching you do this." he continued, gesturing to his desk - and believe it or not, Fred seemed to find the young woman's routine as exciting as a game of Quidditch. "You're beautiful when you're focused."

The brunette tried not to show how stunned she was by this comment. Stupefied and absolutely dumb. And, a little bit, in love (hidden under a ton of pride).

"FRED! "Hermione exclaimed in a tone that was meant to be angry, in the vain hope of saving the few remnants of her pride.

"The name of your next boyfriend. Yes?"

There you go. The ginger was back to normal.

"You're such a jerk."

"You're irresistible, too, sweetheart."

Hermione tried to assess how worthwhile it was to continue this verbal joust, while she put the book he had moved back in place.

"I find you very sure of yourself. "Apparently, she had made up her mind. "I was born to--"

"To lose? I know that, yes. It's obvious."

"I was born to win. It's not the Troll's king that's going to dislodge me."

The twin put his hand up Hermione's back gently, which made her swallow.

She had almost forgotten that there were other people in the class, and the young woman came to wonder what the effect of that hand on her naked skin would be. Fred took her out of her daydreams by removing her bun.

"Hey," she exclaimed, trying to retrieve her rubber band.

"The Troll's King can't wait for you to become his queen. You'll see, you'll be amazed by our castle. You'll never want to leave it again." Fred's hand, which wasn't playing with the rubber band, gently pulled one of Hermione's hair. "You look like a lioness, just like that." he commented with his charming air, making the young woman's skin cherry red. "You're really pretty."

The hoarse tone of the ginger's voice made the young woman's mouth dry.

He winked at her, almost certain of its small effect, and he stepped back - his hands no longer touched her - while playing distractedly with Hermione's rubber band between his fingers.

Professor McGonagall, who was still teaching the transfiguration class despite her title as Headmistress, announced the beginning of the class, which interrupted his train of thought. He was still playing with Hermione's rubber band in his left hand, when he noticed that she was giving him disapproving glances, probably dissatisfied with not being able to tie up his mane. Fred passed it around his wrist - the pink colour hardly went unnoticed, but he didn't care.

Then the Headmistress announced that the homework had been handed in, which made them both sit up straight in their chairs. When the teacher reached their two desks, she looked at them through her square glasses.

"Miss Granger, you should place bets on Mr. Weasley more often. It seems to be the only thing that gets him interested in his classes, apparently." commented McGonagall with barely-contained irony. "Mr. Weasley, do I have to write this achievement down in the annals? Would you start taking your schooling more seriously? It's about time."

"Oh Professor, don't bother. A ceremony to acknowledge my merits will be enough." he replied, and McGonagall gave him a blank stare.

Hermione swallowed as she realized what the Headmistress' words meant. Firstly, the teachers knew their bet - she could say goodbye to all credibility. Secondly, Fred had, again, performed.

He took the scroll handed to him by McGonagall. The bright red O could hardly go unnoticed. He leaned over to Hermione to see that they had the same result.

They were tied. Just as they were tied in their bet.

The young woman had scored higher than in the two courses on defense against the dark arts, while he had surpassed her in the first classes on potions and transfiguration homework.

The bets remained open until tomorrow, when they would receive the results of their potion homework.

.

.

WHAT?

She was seething with rage as she sat in her chair in the potion class. Her elbows were resting on the work table they always shared. Hermione didn't look at him. Instead, with all the dignity she had left, she stared at the painting in front of her.

How had he won? He must have cheated.

 _He cheated_.

It couldn't have been any other way.

**.**

**.**

"You're so full of bad faith, sweetheart."

Hermione's anger turned to rage when she felt a swarm of butterflies coming to take over her stomach. Sweetheart... Why did those two words have to have such an effect on her?

"Don't call me like that."

"Honey? Darling? My little flower? Baby? What do you prefer? After all, tomorrow you'll be my girlfriend for the whole day."

"Why not just Hermione?"

"You're gonna have to brush up on your sense of humor, baby."

Fred was bragging. He was sitting across from her at the Gryffindors' table in the Great Hall. The young woman watched him, with very little restraint, with his peculiar urge to murder him, to beat him or to tear him to pieces.

Hermione's face no longer had any of the first-class angelic look that she had tried to preserve during the potion course. She looked like an angry beast now - and he must not have had a great instinct for survival, for he kept talking and talking nonsense.

"You're the most annoying person I know."

"I got better grades than Miss Perfect. I won a bet. And, the most beautiful girl in this school will be my girlfriend for a day. How could I not be happy? If I listened to myself, I'd be blowing up fireworks."

The bright smile that took hold of Fred's lips gave the young woman the impression that her brain had died of cardiovascular failure. She hated losing. And, even more, she hated the effect it was having on her.

The prettiest girl in school? Her brain was reduced to heart-shaped confetti. Pathetic, Hermione.

"Okay, you calm down. I don't condone fireworks."

He burst out laughing. Then Fred got up and climbed into his chair. It was a very bad omen. Already, all eyes in the room were on him.

"FRED WEASLEY, COME DOWN FROM YOUR CHAIR, RIGHT NOW." exclaimed Hermione furiously.

If someone did not look at them, it was now impossible to ignore the Head Girl's cry of despair. Of course, the ginger didn't listen to her and put his hands around his mouth, as if he was imitating a megaphone.

"Excuse me, gentlemen, ladies, ghosts, professors!" he shouted. Hermione made a small moan and hid her face in his hands. "I want to tell you, if you didn't know it, that I managed to outperform Hermione Granger! So, in addition to the fact that I'm clearly not pathologically stupid..." Fred took a break. "Herminione, sweetheart. "He turned to her. "I hope you're ready to be my girlfriend for a day."

With these words he made a small curtsy, making most of the people present laugh and received yet another murderous look from the Head Girl.

**.**

**.**

Hermione ran down the stairs of the girls' dormitory of her house. She had missed the alarm she had planned and the young woman was about 20 minutes late to her morning routine - no drama to report, Ron would have commented. She wanted to check, for the fourth time, a calculation in her arithmancy assignment.

There was no trace of Ron or Harry when she arrived in the common room.They must have already been in the Great Hall or still sleeping. Which was perfectly plausible.

Her gaze stopped on Fred, sitting at one of the tables near the entrance. Alone. It was, already, strange. He also had to try to read a book backwards (probably Luna's idea). However, his frantic glances towards the stairs didn't deceive anyone: he was waiting, necessarily, for someone.

Oh, no, he wasn't. Hermione had been trying to convince herself all evening, the night before, that this idea of a bet was, in the end, a stupid joke. He couldn't really force her to play the role of his girlfriend for a whole day. (Hermione ignored a little voice that pointed out that this 'role' would not be very difficult to play).

The young woman tried to stifle a small moan when her gaze met Fred's cerulean gaze. She didn't have time for this crap. However, if she played the bad-loser card, Hermione would hear about it for an eternity (or two). She tried to build herself a passable smile to avoid being blamed for her bad faith by walking up to him again.

"I thought it was a joke." she says, as a greeting.

"Good morning, baby! How are you, my little lioness? I hope you slept well. Personally, I had a wonderful dream. You're going to tell me it's normal, since you were there, but I wanted to tell you anyway." Fred laughed at the disbelief and the redness on the young woman's face... "And to answer your question, would you have accepted this bet as a joke if you had won? Let me doubt it. You would have stopped us from selling anything with your adorable military air."

How could he compliment her and point out one of her faults at the same time? A real mystery.

"I see..." she whistled.

"So, yeah, you're gonna be my girlfriend today. Don't worry, I have no intention of making your life miserable. You can ask Angelina, I can be a really good boyfriend."

The mere mention of the former chaser sparked a jealous rage in her belly. Too many conflicting emotions before she had her first coffee of the day.

"I'll do without." she said in a sharp voice.

Fred smiles as if she said something particularly funny. Damn, that girl always surprised him and he loved it. Was she really jealous of Angelina? It was adorable. Her gaze went to the thick brown curls that fell on his shoulders.

"I thought you remembered your pathetic failure-"

"I'd like to remind you that you won by one point, only. So pathetic is a big word... »

"That's what I was saying. Pathetic. Anyway, you didn't tie your hair up."

"And?"

Hermione ran a hand through her hair, frowning, not quite understanding the connection.

He grabbed her hand and tugged it to bring it closer to him.

"Nothing. You're beautiful. "he whispered, twisting his eyes into hers, which made the young woman lose all coherent thought. "Are we going to eat?"

It took several embarrassing seconds before her neurons decided to cooperate and answer her question properly. Finally, she nodded. Fred had a chuckle at this spectacle - to see Hermione Granger unable to find the words to answer a five-word question was a spectacle. Then he stood up and, without warning, planted a kiss on the head of the Head Girl (which did nothing to help him get back on his feet).

The young man did not detach his hand from his own. They left the common room and his thumb came to caress the palm of the brunette's hand. No, his composure would not survive the day. Neither would her neurological functions.

Hermione had already forgotten her assignment. It was rather easy to focus only on the presence of Fred next to her.

The muggle-born stopped abruptly, in the middle of a corridor, and looked at the ginger one gravely. She had to find a way to protect herself - because if it was a bad joke on the part of the twin, Hermione's sensitivity wouldn't survive it.

"Fred." she whispered, uncomfortable. "I don't want you, I don't want... " She scratched the back of her head. "I don't want... you know, to..."

"Don't you want to kiss me?" he guessed.

The ginger felt himself melting when she nodded. It was a real paradox.If Fred only listened to her desires, he would have put his lips on the young woman's lips in that very corridor. 

And, despite his request, Fred really doubted the wisdom of expressly showing his attraction to her in this way.

"I would never do anything you don't want me to do." he reassured her.

The ginger doubted for exactly two seconds that he wouldn't be able to show her a non-reciprocal attraction. To be, then, completely certain that he could accept the possibility that she shared nothing - no feelings, no desires, no desires, no attractions, nothing. If he saw a small breach, no matter how small, he'd run into it.

Because Hermione Granger was different. Because Hermione Granger was giving him a whole different range of emotions than he was used to.

And, well, she was worth the wait.

**.**

**.**

The Gryffindor soon realised that playing Fred Weasley's one-day girlfriend was not a big deal. In fact, there were no major changes, except that they were, despite his request, more tactile to each other.

They had arrived in the Great Hall, hand in hand, under the amused gaze of the students in their house - especially Harry, Ron, Ginny and George.

Over breakfast, Hermione had eaten a croissant while reviewing her homework. Fred had wrapped his arm around her waist, as he always did when he wanted her attention, while talking with George.

He had then accompanied her to her arithmancy class. When they parted, Hermione had put a kiss on her cheek, before running off into the classroom, red with embarrassment. Fred had been frozen and plunged by this gesture for a good thirty seconds.

In defense against the dark arts, they did not sit together as usual. The brunette was particularly distracted during the class: her thoughts kept moving towards the ginger sitting a few yards away from her. Professor Snape brought her back to order at one point, begging her in front of the whole class to stop sighing with love for Mr. Weasley. And, at that moment, Hermione would have enjoyed discovering the faculty of disappearing into the ground.

Unsurprisingly, the Head Girl spent lunch hour at the library, alone, where Fred joined her after about forty minutes.He had brought her a chicken sandwich, which he had hidden in his bag - and which passed under Mrs. Pince's close supervision. _You're going to faint if you don't eat anything, considering your brain is working at full speed_. Hermione was so moved by the ginger's gesture that she could hardly swallow what he had brought her: her belly was twisted in a thousand knots, with huge butterflies, dragonflies and hummingbirds running through it. Too much circulation in her belly for her to feed properly.

When she entered the common room after her botany class at the end of the day, she and Neville received a spray paint can on her head.Should she be surprised that the twins orchestrated a game of Quidditch in the Gryffindors' common room using spray-paint cans as bullets? Fred had used all his powers of seduction - and Hermione understood how damn sensitive she was to it - to lighten their restraint.

During dinner, she was ironically anxious about the end of this comedy.

She liked how close she was to Fred. He was easy to be with. Hermione hadn't felt like she was playing a part. It was natural, obvious. Much more so than with Viktor, with whom she had been in a relationship for a few months, during and after the Triwizard Tournament. He wasn't trying to change her, unlike some of the boys who had taken an interest in her, and he seemed to accept it. She felt loved. And complete.

And it was horrible that she felt that way just because she had lost a bet.

After the meal, they both walked silently to the common room. Before reaching the portrait of the Fat Lady, Hermione stopped. She had no particular desire to have spectators at the end of the day - which had looked horrible, but in itself had been anything but that. Fred frowned, but didn't fill the silence between them.

"And then? It wasn't so hard after all, was it?" the ginger asked, scratching the back of his head, slightly uncomfortable.

"No, it's true," she nodded flatly, as comfortable as he was. "Fred, I... " She cleared her throat, as she stepped aside to face him. She felt incredibly stupid. "Actually, it's just..."

How could say that one was dying to kiss those lips, split by a small scar in the left corner and somewhat chapped? How could say that the request, the supplication, that one had made not to be kissed, was motivated only by an instinct of self-preservation? How could it be said that every finger he laid on her destroyed the armour she had put around her heart and that the next few minutes would be crucial so that it would not be torn into pieces?

There were no words, no sentences, no syntax, no grammar that could convey that message.

Then Hermione stepped forward. She gauged his reaction. She assessed it, millimetre by millimetre conquered. A first kiss so short that Fred thought he'd hallucinated her. A second, shorter kiss - as if it were humanly possible - that confirmed to the ginger that he hadn't dreamt. Then Fred had decided to do something about it.

The world seemed to become blurred, just as it seemed to stop spinning. Every minute was filled with Fred Weasley: his tongue dancing a frenetic ballet with her own, his frantic breathing mingled with the apoplexy of her own lungs, his teeth chewing, catching, teasing her lower lip, that little grunt that their kiss smothered, his hands grasping her uniform shirt, the freshness of the wall he'd pinned it against.

She would never have thought, one day, that it was possible to be kissed so carnally in a school hallway. And, with Fred's lips devouring, kissing and caressing every bit of her skin uncovered by his shirt and every part of his soul that he was able to reach, Hermione suddenly seemed to be impervious to the idea of being caught.

Then, as if she suddenly remembered where she was - and with whom - the young woman opened her eyes and gently pushed Fred away.

His hands came to rest on the wall, framing Hermione's head.He watched her confusedly, hardly grasping what was happening, obsessed by the dewy colour of the young woman's cheeks, her dilated eyes or her lips swollen from kissing. He was intoxicated by her. Completely. From A to Z.

"I swear, Weasley, if this is a joke or--"

Fred's hands came to frame his face and he put his lips in a more delicate kiss, in order to interrupt him and also because he could hardly conceive how to stop kissing her. 

"Hermione Granger." He said, his hoarse voice sending shivers of electricity through her veins. "Would you accept the evidence that we're a good match?"

"Maybe, you dumbass."

Dumb because he was pathologically under her spell, yes.

"Hey, I proved I wasn't yesterday."

"Fred."she said, stroking her jaw with the tip of her nose. "It's been a long time since I've known you're devilishly clever. You didn't need that challenge for the... Prove it to me."

He opened his mouth to say something in reply to his confession. However, without thinking, she silenced him by kissing him again.

In this way, she would probably overuse it to make him stop talking from now on.


End file.
